


Slide me your number

by leyline



Series: shorts on tumblr [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Awkward Flirting, Bars and Pubs, Journalist Stiles, M/M, Misunderstandings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-09
Updated: 2015-04-09
Packaged: 2018-03-22 02:53:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3712111
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leyline/pseuds/leyline
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"what about a ‘hey i’m sorry to bother you but i’m trying to convince my friends i’m a sex god so can you please write a fake number on this napkin for me real quick’ au"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Slide me your number

**Author's Note:**

> this is a short based on an original prompt posted on tumblr by gerardwaysshorts

Stiles has been at _Baccari’s_ for approximately one hour and that entire time he’s been a man on a mission. Story of his life, really. Except this time, his mission is less _let’s get drunk and maybe dance on a table_ and more _My usual spot has been usurped by an evil queen and this situation needs to change_.  
  
Stiles and his friends have been reduced to sitting near the sound system, on stools, which, goes without saying, is the worst situation for a guy who’s downed a few drinks. He couldn’t even hear what Scott was saying to him and the guy was literally screaming in his ear.  
  
So, a few drinks down and the confidence (or really, just plain old recklessness) they provide, Stiles had proclaimed (not an exaggeration, his tipsy self is quite the dramatic) he had had enough and that he would take back what was rightfully theirs. They had been sitting on that spot even since they were **sixteen**. It probably even stinks like them already. That should mean something, even to sly backstabbers who steal amazing spots with amazing couches.

It’s true, the bar is packed as is usual, but it really isn’t about getting the best couches with the perfect cozy-to-size ratio anymore. This is about honor and perseverance and never giving up your favorite spot (far from the stage enough that you can talk and be heard, close to the bar enough that you don’t have to walk through the entire crowd of bodies to order drinks and near the door enough if you have to make a hasty escape in case your friends decide to sign you up for karaoke) to a woman that steals your coffee every morning and forces you to walk two flights of stairs twice in the space of ten minutes.  
  
That’s just unforgivable.  
  
So this is about Cora and Stiles and the more recent three shots of tequila, maybe. It’s not an easy job, Cora and her friends have obviously become self-aware and realized of the great benefits the spot ensues, but if there’s one thing Stiles has, it’s resolve. Once he gets his mind into something he does everything in his power to get it. Or talk his way into it. It’s what makes him such a great journalist. And journalists, true journalists, don’t give up until they have used every resource up their sleeve.  
  
The downside being exactly that. Stiles is running out of resources and Cora still hasn’t moved to the other completely available and perfect for their group of seven table. Because that table has stools. Stiles hates stools. He’s not coordinate enough to sit on them (even less after drinks)! It’s a serious situation.  
  
He’s tried nudging Cora. He’s tried poking her. He’s tried talking about the variants of mythology around the world and their interesting similarities. He’s tried remembering her of that article she wrote about parking lots, just to see if she would get the urge to go home and hide.  
  
Basically, he’s tried everything. None of them worked. Cora and her friends are still sitting on Stiles and his friends’ spot and Cora is still smiling at him while sipping her drink lazily.  
  
“I’m telling you, you can have the spot if you score more than _Cupcake_ at karaoke.”  
  
Cupcake is a mysterious username forever etched on the karaoke scoreboard of the bar. The person is kind of a legend in _Baccari’s_ , even though nobody has any idea who they are or how they have managed to stay the undefeated champion of karaoke for years and years.  
  
Karaoke points on _Baccari’s_ follow a strong, solid system of classification named by the regulars as _Dance It, Feel It, Embarrass Yourself_ (or the more classical version, _Ass Yourself_ ). Stiles has seen the performances here that would make anyone think of the things going on at Las Vegas as average.  
  
“I’m not falling for that. Again.”  
  
“Tell you what, Stilinski.” Stiles turns to Brett, also one of their coworkers, a guy who has somehow forged an undeniable friendship with Cora, even though the first time they saw each other they hated one another. Maybe it’s because they’re both freaking sadists.  
  
“If you, alone, can get a phone number from a person in this bar, you and your friends can have the table.”  
  
Cora chokes on her drink while Stiles slaps a hand against his own heart.  
  
“You wound me. Are you doubting that I, such a stud, would be able to flirt someone into giving me their number?”  
  
“After that karaoke routine we just witnessed? I would be an idiot to doubt.” Brett almost spills half his drink trying to sip from it while laughing at the same time.  
  
Liam’s right, the guy is such an asshole. Does it say something that Stiles is kind of attracted to him right now? Oh well. That’s life.  
  
“But,” Cora says and Stiles groans because he knew a but was coming “it can’t be just any number. It has to be _the_ number. You have to get the digits of the hottest person in this room.”  
  
“Well, I already have your number, so.” Stiles tries because he still has that resource left.  
  
Cora snorts while sipping her drink and then lowers it “Nice try, Stilinski.”  
  
And there it goes.  
  
Stiles throws his hands up, searches the room.  
  
Most of the people have wandered off to dance, so he ticks them off. He won’t get much luck if the person can’t even hear him. He’s better with words. So he looks towards the bar, because it’s always quieter there and the light is softer, so Stiles can get a good look at the people there and they back at him.  He spots a few people there, a couple (out of the question then) and then.  
Then his gaze lands on a man leaning against the bar, waiting for drinks.  
  
“That guy. Definitely that guy, right?” He says a little breathlessly because, really, not even Brett could doubt that.  
  
The man is just…Wow. He’s wow. Hot like wow are the exact words Stiles sings in his own mind (maybe he even mouths them a little). The guy has his elbows leaning on the table, he’s slightly sideways, surely so he can see the bartender giving other people drinks while waiting for his own, so Stiles has a pretty good view of his everything.  
  
He’s toned, no doubt about it. He’s wearing a purple Henley and jeans which should be simple and not at all much but in this guy they somehow are. Because Stiles is feeling a little out of breath and he takes the stairs at work many times a day. Sure, those leave him breathless too but…Still.  
  
The seconds it takes for Stiles to imagine the guy and him in many, many, several positions, Stiles on top, the guy on top, really he’s not picky…Are abruptly interrupted when Cora follows his finger and starts laughing so loud the guy actually looks their way. The guy frowns.  
  
Stiles tries to hide behind someone but there’s no one there to serve as his shield from impeding embarrassment so he just looks at Cora quickly.  
  
“That’s cheating, you’re already making me look like a loser getting laughed at by a pretty lady!”  
  
“Please, you getting me to laugh would be the best you could get from me.” Cora says, but he knows she’s teasing because she smiles up at him from where she’s twirling the straw of her blue drink in her mouth.  
  
“Don’t act like you haven’t thought about all this. Repeatedly.”  
  
Brett and Cora start laughing in unison and Stiles pride is almost hurt. Almost. He’s got the protection of his own confidence (hardly won after all these years) and a few shots.  
  
“God, don’t be gross. You’re like a brother to me.”  
  
“Don’t siblings get teached to share?”  
  
Cora shakes her finger at him. “Just because they get teached doesn’t mean they learn.”  
  
Stiles grunts and looks up at the ceiling. Maybe a piece of it could fall and land on them, somehow managing to keep the table and the couches safe? There are odds supporting that possibility, right? No? Okay, that’s not happening today, apparently. **Maybe one day.  
**   
Cora releases her straw once more, gulps and then waves her hand at Stiles.  
  
“No, no. I actually do like your idea.” She holds out her hand for Brett to high five and Stiles tries to stop them because no bonding allowed when he’s about to get mortally embarrassed, come on! He’s still too slow. Brett gives Cora a down-low “Yeah, try to get that guy’s number, then we’ll talk business. Good luck.”  
  
“You don’t think I can?”  
  
Stiles should know better. He should. He recognizes this, this is pure and simple a diversion tactic. He himself has used it before, so many times. They just want to distract him, but well, it’s not going to work. It’s not. It will not work because Stiles is the master of diversion tactics and he will not allow the spell to turn against him or however they say it.  
  
“I’d just love to see you try.”  
  
The spell he cast himself turns against him, who’s surprised?  
  
Because Cora is evil and Stiles is going to show her while simultaneously having the pleasure of talking to the hottest man he’s ever, or ever will he suspects, seen. He’s the winner in this situation, really.  
  
It’s one thing to visualize it in his head (which is weirdly clear by now, curse it) but it’s another to in reality slide up next to the guy, as smoothly as he can as to not frighten, and place himself between the guy and the stool next to him. He tries to remember all the pick-up lines Scott and him have practiced, or all the 007 movies he’s ever watched, searching for a single word that would make this man surrender his number to him but what actually comes out of his mouth is:  
  
“Yo.”  
  
The guy looks up at him with his eyebrow raised so Stiles quickly keeps going before he can be so quickly turned down. That would have killed him even more than the fact he’s just noticing that the guy’s Henley is slightly open and he can see the hair there. Oh my god. “I’m Stiles– Wait, no, I didn’t mean to tell you that, now you can mock me after this is over and– Really, just listen! You see that woman over there, that beautiful, evil, terrifying woman sitting in that booth?”  
  
The guy looks over and Cora gives them a smirk and a wink. Oh my god, what a jackass.  
  
“Yeah, I see her.” The guy says, turning back to Stiles. He actually sits in his own barstool and turns his body to face Stiles’.  
  
Stiles wonders for a moment if the guy was too busy waiting for drinks to see his karaoke performance. Wishes is more like it, because if the guy saw it then this is going to be a lot harder, but not impossible, dammit!  
  
“Well, she’s violating the bro code. Like, in serious tones. You see, that booth has belonged to me and my friends for years. We practically live in that booth. Now she and her pack of unfairly attractive vampires have stolen it from us.” The guy snorts at that but Stiles manages to not stutter (too much) and continues “Which, I could get over. But she actually challenged me so this is about honor now and about making a man out of myself and all that shit.”  
  
The guys huffs this time “Well, you sure are swift as the coursing river.”  
  
Stiles would laugh at the fact this guy just turned his rambling into _a fucking kids movie reference_ but the combination of hot and silly just renders his mouth open.  
  
“Did you just– Okay, wow. Let me just–“ Stiles sits down on the bar stool next to the guy “I don’t know why that was hot. Maybe I should take my dad’s advice and get myself tested.”  
  
The guy licks his lips and Stiles is distracted for a second before he sees both of the guy’s eyebrow’s shoot up, little wrinkles forming in his forehead (Stiles must have been drunker than he thinks if he’s thinking of even that as attractive, oh my god).  
  
“That sounded like– Oh my god, please listen.” He tentatively reaches further until he’s almost in the guy’s space. He still doesn’t touch him because over the years he’s learned to respect personal boundaries (well, as much as he can) and the guy didn’t exactly give him permission but he can smell the dude’s aftershave. **The dude wears aftershave.** God, he smells amazing. Why does he have to wear that? “If I can get that booth, I’ll finally have something to hold over Cora’s head, that’s huh, that’s the woman over there.”  
  
He points back to Cora but the man just nods and doesn’t even look back. Stiles takes that as a good sign, a sign he’s at least got the dude’s attention, so he continues:  
  
“And it’s been four years since I’ve known her and I’ve never, ever been able to do so, seriously dude, you won’t believe how fierce she is. Anyways, if you could just,” He pretends to smirk so it’ll look like he’s seducing this man with his killer flirting skills. He hopes Cora can’t read lips but who knows really, she can do anything “scramble a fake number to me and pretend I just swooned you with my amazing amber eyes and smooth talk, and act a little like I’m the hottest sex god you’ve seen, that would be awesome and I would even buy you a drink as a thank you and most importantly, I’m sure, finally get out of your hair.”  
  
The guy looks at Stiles for so long (or maybe just a few minutes, seriously, this guy’s stares are so intense that Stiles kind of loses sight of reality for a while and also loses himself in those bright, clear eyes of some color) that he’s afraid he’s freaked him out somehow.  
  
Then he’s being looked at up and down, the dude’s tongue poking into the inside of his cheek and making Stiles think of…God. He’s sure the guy’s doing that unconsciously but still…God. How is life…Oh my god.  
  
“You said your name was Stiles?”  
  
“Y–Yeah, I did.” The guy’s tongue has quieted down so Stiles can actually concentrated on **this** , and **talking**. And generally just keeping his lungs pumping oxygen.  
  
The guy nods slowly, as if filing that information.  
  
“You got a pen, Stiles?”  
  
At first Stiles doesn’t even move, doesn’t dare say anything because the guy is seriously…That worked? With a guy like this? That just means he’s a nice guy too which, shit. Stiles is…“Shit, I don’t– Not really, no.”  
  
Stiles glances at Cora and sees her smile wider. She can’t know he just screwed this up. He turns back to the man.  
  
“Please just laugh like I said something seductive.”  
  
The guy dips his chin towards his chest, eyes resting on the floor a little, laughing softly before he looks up at Stiles again. He’s smiling sweetly so suddenly that Stiles doesn’t register the opening of his own mouth until it’s already happening and he quickly shuts it when he sees the guy is actually staring at his mouth and Stiles is thinking he’s so thankful to this man because this has got to be enough to fool Cora by now, although he really would like to believe that little voice inside his head that tells him that maybe this guy means it in some way, maybe he’s attracted to awkward situations imposed on him by awkward adults of twenty three years old trying to get his number for the sake of a spot without tricky stools.  
  
Suddenly a pen slides itself on the table to stop right at the guy’s hand. That pen is attached to a hand which in turn is attached to a very nosy bartender.  
  
“You’re welcome.” Kali says as she eyes them both and then glides (seriously, she glides, the woman glides. That’s how terrifying she is) away to attend to another customer. One who actually orders drinks and isn’t embarrassing himself in front of the most awesome combination of a person anyone has ever seen.  
  
“Eavesdropping is bad.” Stiles murmurs, but he knows Kali heard him because she laughs loudly and screams a “It comes with my job, honey!” at him without even turning around.  
  
Why are all women so…Powerful? And evil?  
  
The guy is then grabbing Stiles’ hand gently and pulling it towards himself. He looks at Stiles again and then writes a number on his hand, slowing down the skimming of the ink so much that Stiles starts to think maybe he’s doing it on purpose.  
  
His warm hand is squeezing Stiles by the wrist softly and he’s speechless for a moment. It’s making Stiles a little warmer, _everywhere_.  
  
Then the guy lets him go, thumb sliding one last time on his wrist and a number firmly place on the palm of Stiles’ hand in bold, black ink.  
  
“Wow. I mean, thanks. Thanks, dude.” He looks down and sees the guy added a winky face and he’s about to say something else just as the bartender places a bunch of drinks in front of him.  
  
Stiles is about to ask if jesus, is he going to drink all that himself, but it’s really none of his business and he did promise to leave the dude alone and now the deed is done so he should probably just. Yeah.  
  
He springs down the barstool with another word of thanks.  
  
Stiles should probably start walking before he forgets he isn’t actually going out of his comfort zone to really swoon this unbelievably attractive and endearing man (thought oh my god, he wishes he was. It’s all he can think about now), but really to…To what?  
  
Oh, the couches. Yeah. Head in the game, Stilinski.  
  
“Right, so. I’m gonna– Thanks again, man. I owe you.” Oh my god, now he can’t stop saying thank you and this guy hasn’t even given him an orgasm yet. Or ever! Because he just needed the number, yeah. He turns to Kali “Next time, let him order whatever, on me.”  
  
She nods with an amused smile as she takes her pen back. It still creeps Stiles out every time she does that. Kali smiling is usually a good omen for Stiles embarrassing himself. Usually it’s social death by karaoke. That’s kind of their tradition by now.  
  
Stiles turns one last time to look at the guy, who is now standing up holding all the drinks.  
  
“Hm, so.” He nods, really what else can he say? (‘Dry hump me on this bar counter’ sounds accurate but unfortunately, so not appropriate) and leaves towards Cora. He feels someone behind him and turns to watch…The guy, following him. Which is weird, right? And…Why? More importantly, why is Stiles a little excited by it? Lydia’s right. He’s got some wicked turn ons.  
  
He reaches Cora’s table and the guy is right there and he’s about to ask him if maybe, oh god, when…  
  
“Thanks, Derek.” Cora says, gesturing towards the hot guy to put the drinks on the table. Stiles stares, mouth open and half words forming in his lips but not leaving entirely.  
  
He analyses the facts through his shock, because that’s what his job taught him. Cora knows this guys, obviously, because the dude has just sat down at the only empty spot on the couch ( _hey, you’re supposed to be getting up!_ Stiles subconscious thinks at the same time his conscious mind tries to work this out). They’re on really good terms, proof being that the guy knows her coworkers and Cora has once said she’d only introduce someone to them when she knew them to be special. Cora called him Derek. Derek. Stiles’ brain forces its hinges. She just said Derek.  
  
“You– And him– But I don’t–“ He points an accusing finger between them. “Derek, the brother?” He whispers.  
  
Derek huffs out a laugh and when he talks Stiles sees the stupid grin on his face. He leans back, arms on the back of the couch.  
  
“And you’re Stiles, the coworker. Nice to meet you. Well, officially, I mean. I feel like I know so much about you. Cora talks a lot.”  
  
Cora kicks him under the table but it’s playfully. Stiles knows it because he’s been on the receiving end of it too. That means Derek is telling the truth. Cora talks about him. That kind of makes him happy. But then again she just set him up to embarrass himself and he kind of wants to kill her and hide the body and maybe at the same time hide his face on Derek’s shoulder, oh my god, he’s dying today. Death by blood rush. He always thought it’d be another kind of blood rush.  
  
Stiles is still gaping when Derek turns to him again and lets his eyes wander all over his face. When those beautiful eyes stop and bore straight into his own, Stiles can’t help the bob of his Adam’s apple.  
  
“That’s my real one, by the way. You can use it tomorrow.” Derek says, pointing at the handwriting Stiles is now smudging against his hand as opposed to actually breathing.  
  
For a moment Derek hides his smile behind his hand (is he…shy? Oh my god, Stiles will…) but then he takes the hand back and his bunny teeth make an appearance. “But for now, about that drink…”


End file.
